


My Name is Dean Winchester

by wish_i_was_a_dalek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, MPD, Multi, Multiple Personality Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vampires, did, i got most of this written already, i just need to fill in some spots, ugh I hate writing those, write some action scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wish_i_was_a_dalek/pseuds/wish_i_was_a_dalek
Summary: Alternate post season 6? 7? Idk like back before Cas lost his grace but after he was losing his power. tbh it's been a while since I've cn this show sorry.Dean has DID (or multiple personality disorder whatever).oh, and ptsd (but we already knew that)oh, and Sam never went to hell but somehow the apocalypse is over? idk this makes sense to someone probably





	My Name is Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> I was honestly disappointed in the way Dean acted after he came back from hell. And they way he "tortured" Alistair. It was fucking child's play. So I decided to rewrite it for everyone. Also, Dean has Multiple Personality Disorder (or DID if we're being technical about it).  
> If I wasn't horrible at action scenes, I would say 'you're welcome.'  
> non-proofread, not edited, it's 5 am now so yay

That cocky son of a bitch knew where their friend was. Cas had been taken by one of them days ago. The brothers were hunting a huge nest of these fuckers (and I mean gigantic) when Dean had the genius idea to call Castiel to come help.

“He wanted to be a hunter, Sam. This could be like training!” Dean was excited at the prospect of Castiel coming to help them out with exterminating this nest of vampires. Of course, that all got turned around when the angel was fucking kidnapped.

Dean was devastated. He and Castiel were best friends, and to Sam, Castiel was a brother. They knew it would take a miracle to get Castiel out of this situation, and with the angel’s diminishing power, it’s not like he could make his own, no matter how much of a badass he was.

Sam and Dean had tracked down one of the leaders of the vampires and had been interrogating him for days. The current problem was that the vamp simply wouldn’t crack. They had tried everything from normal torture to injecting dead man’s blood into the bitch. He just wouldn’t talk.

Sam exited the dungeon of the bunker, empty syringe in hand. “Dean, I don’t know what to do. It’s like he’s immune or something.”

Dean, who had been waiting outside patiently, ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, Sam. What are we going to do? He’s our best lead so far,” Dean gestured to the doorway that lead to their guest.

“Well,” Sam began, “It’s not like both of us are amateurs in torture.” He raised his eyebrows at Dean. “Now I know you tried before and you didn’t exactly impress the last time you tried to use your skills, but I think if you really tried, you just might be able to get something out of our little friend.”

Dean took a second to fully understand what Sam was suggesting. “You don’t mean….” His words died on his tongue. Years ago, Cas and his band of bible thumping waves of celestial beings had asked Dean to do the unthinkable. His skills referred to torturing information out of a creature. Dean was apparently famous in hell for his torturing methods. There was a small problem with this; Dean couldn’t remember any of it.

When he was torturing Alistair, he tried to access those memories of hell, but they had all but disappeared. The only thing left was some almost snapshot-like memories and a sense of terrifying panic. Alistair had hinted that Dean wasn’t able to perform like he used to, but Dean had a feeling the demon removed his memory in order to make sure he wouldn’t be able to use it against hell.

“You know I can't do that, Sam,” Dean scolded. “I wouldn’t even if I could.”

Sam groaned. “Why not? You didn’t get a reputation, in hell of all places, for nothing.”

And there was the panic, rising in Dean’s chest again. He knew Sam had a point. If someone didn't do something soon, their friend, their family, their brother, might end up dead. He couldn't do nothing, especially when it was his fault Cas had been taken in the first place. Dean could feel a major headache coming on. He procrastinated answering for a moment longer, debating his choices, before finally agreeing. "Fine. It's worth a shot. I want Cas back as soon as possible."

Dean watched as his brother physically deflated a bit in relief. "Thanks, Dean."

The older Winchester mumbled an answer as he thought for a moment. What did he need? "Sammy, get me all the tools we have."

"Tools?" Sam frowned. "Which tools?"

"Let's see..." Dean massaged the back of his stiff neck - who could blame him for being tense at a time like this? "Hammer, nails, the long ones, pliers, knives, a saw, oh, and plenty of dean man's blood," Dean finished his mental list with a nod. "That should be enough to start."

Sam stuttered for a moment. "I- I I uh- ... What are you planing on doing, building a dresser with him?" Dean shot him a look that said _Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to._ Sam shut up.

 

 

 

Dean entered the dungeon with a large duffel bag, to find the vamp buttfuck lounging on the chair he was tied to, smirking at him. Dean smirked back at him, cockily. "So, assface, can you talk? Or do you just choose not to?" The long-haired blonde monster just smiled at Dean like he had been all day. "I guess we'll find out in a minute or so."

Dean started with the pliers, just teasing at first, snapping them closed all around the fucker's head. The vamp just raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, _Is this supposed to be intimidating or something?_

Dean got down on his knees after a moment of this and secured one of his subject's right finger nails in between the metal of the pliers. "You ready?" he asked. The subject just smiled wider, showing a bit of white teeth. He only made the first noise of the evening when Dean yanked the nail out; a small gasp.

"So you can open your mouth. That's good, for a moment I thought your lips were sewn together." The subject huffed a few times, clenching his left hand a few times before relaxing. Dean watched his face in wonder. It was like this was... so familiar.

After removing most of the nails from the subject's right hand until he was whimpering, Dean stepped back to give it a break. He knew exactly what he was doing. The subject tried clenching it's right hand, and yelped at the sharp pain. Dean was excited, these sounds from the subject were just delicious. It would be only fair to continue without giving it a chance to tell him what he needed to know, but Dean did what he was trained to do. Offer a deal before the subject became too lost in pain to communicate with.

"You can either tell me where my friend is, or we can continue." The subject's answer was clear when it spat at the ground near Dean's shoe. "Okay, then. Let's get started."

Dean took out the hammer, flipped it around in his hand a little. "Now, where would you like it, subject? We can take the hammer to your ribs, your hands, or your balls. I'm guessing your right hand needs a bit to recover, so you get to chose between your ribs and your balls." Dean snickered, "It's your choice, bitch." The subject sure was confused now, glancing between Dean's face and the hammer in his hand.

"Oh, yeah, your name is subject now, I hope you don't mind. It's just so much easier to remember than, what was it again?" Dean slammed the hammer down on the subject's kneecap. Subject screamed. "Oh, that's right, AUGHHHGRHN! Seriously, what is that, Italian?" Dean slammed that hammer down again a little higher on it's thigh this time.

Once the subject's left leg was fucked up to Dean's liking, he offered again. "You wanna tell me now?" Subject shifted in his chair, yelping when it put pressure on it's leg. Dean raised his hammer again, "By the way, you never choose between your ribs or your balls, fucker. I'll chose for you, asshole. I have some plans for that cock later," he winked, " so I'm aiming for your ribs now. Just FYI."

 

 

 

It took another half hour, two broken ribs, and three teeth pulled for the subject to crack.

"No!" the subject yelled. "Please! I can tell you."

Dean snapped back to reality. "What?"

The vamp began sobbing. "I'll tell you, I just don't want you to continue."

Dean called Sam into the dungeon to tell him what the Vampire, Zachery, they found his name was, knew about where Castiel was.

Dean walked back to the dungeon to kill the vamp and suddenly woke up in his room, packing a bag full of guns and machetes. What even was wrong with him, why was he zoning out so much today? He chalked it up to stress and lack of sleep before finishing packing and leaving to meet Sam.

 

 

 

The Winchesters arrived at the abandoned subway station an hour later. Dean turned to his brother. "Are you sure this is where he said Cas was? An old subway tube?"

Sam, who was neck deep in a map, mumbled something along the lines of, "That's what you said he said."

Dean huffed, grabbing his backpack and a shotgun. "Come on, bitch. Let's go." They hauled ass to the locked door, Sam picking the lock while Dean was lookout. After a minute or two, Dean whined, "What's taking so damn long? We could've set the entire nest on fire by now."

"It's really dark out, Jerk. I can't see shit." Dean groaned. The thought of his friend locked away with those bat-people, probably being tortured, it was too much for Dean. He snapped at Sam to get the fuck out of the way before raising his shotgun and obliterating the padlock. "Dean," Sam screamed, "You just announced our presence to every goddamn creature in a two-mile radius! What are you thinking?"

"I'm not," Dean replied, before kicking the door open.

The brothers walked in, turning on their flashlights and observing their surroundings. It sure was dark here, the sun having gone down hours ago. They could only partially see the platform and the beginning of the tunnel. Dean readied his shotgun.

They walked back-to-back, like years of hunting had taught them to do, watching every angle. The vamp's main hideout was only two stops away, and when Dean turned to glance at Sam, he saw the same question he was asking in his head reflected in his brother's eyes;  _where were the vampires that were supposed to be here?_

Rats, cockroaches, and... other things... scurried around them in the dark, slightly spooking Dean at every step. He knew he had to get to Cas, but this was enough to make him want to turn around and run for it. Something about the whole vibe this place was giving him made him suddenly aware of his loud heartbeat, the crunch of dried leaves and stones and dirt under his shoes.

They made it into the tunnels before the first one attacked. A white-skinned brunette overweight girl, looking no more than fifteen, jumped down from the ceiling and lunged for Dean. Sam shot her in the chest in an instant, which just pissed her off even more. "Intruders," she screamed before leaping five feet into the air and landing on Dean, scratching at his head.

It happened in an instant, a chill ran down Sam's back, a vibration shook through the air. Dean had the girl in a headlock and held a machete to her large neck. "Take me to my friend," he whispered in her ear, "or I cut your fat head off. Got it, sweetie?" She nodded shortly, pointing in front of them. Dean dragged her along, leading a bewildered Sam into the ruins of a subway track.

They reached the heart of the nest in just under ten minutes, the vampire hoe only trying to escape twice. Sam counted over fifty vampires in that landing alone. They were all awake and seemed to be waiting for the brothers' arrival. The oldest one in the middle of the pack spoke up first, "Let our sister go and we might be able to negotiate something," he grunted.

"What sister? You mean the dead one in my arms?" Dean smirked at the elder's confused face.

"What do you mean?" asked the girl. "I'm perfectly fine," she whined. In an instant, Dean's knife had effortlessly sawed the girl's head completely off.

"No, you ain't." He threw her head to the cluster of vampires.

The next minute was tense. Sam was speechless at Dean's thoughtless actions. The vampires were in shock, and Dean was still holding the dead teen's body. They spent that minute in silence. The cockroaches' skittering was the loudest thing in the room. Dean finally got a moment to glance around the landing.

There were lanterns around the perimeter, and in the far back corner, guarded by many of these fuckers, was Castiel, in angel cuffs, strapped to a pipe. Cas seemed in good shape, considering the circumstances. He looked rumpled and dirty and had a few scratches and bruises, but Dean couldn't see any permanent damage. Good.

Then a vamp screamed, Sam took out his flamethrower in an instant and lit them the hell up. Dean began chopping vamps left and right. Heads, bodies, arms and legs, it didn't matter. They were in chaos from, ya know, being on fire. The flamethrower idea actually came from the internet, one of the 'Supernatural' book fan sites. They had been taking many useful ideas from those lately, like the iron knuckles to punch demons in the face, and gluing salt rings down. No one really understood how they were supposed to hunt with salt-filled hula hoops around their waists, though.

When they had finally burned and chopped through the main mass of the monsters, Sam was about out of juice (in his flamethrower and energy levels) and Dean was drenched in blood. They were finally face-to-face with the five vamps who they had been tracking for the last two years. This group was on every hunters hit list. These were the oldest recorded vampires, and they just kept fucking reproducing and escaping. These were walking nightmares.

The only thing stopping Sam from lighting them up like their groupies was the exhausted-looking angel in the elder's arms. Cas was white as a sheet, and, on closer inspection, looked like he'd been through hell and back. He had a black left eye, swollen shut, and half of his face was bruised. Dean shivered and whispered to him, "You okay, buddy?" Cas just croaked pitifully and closed his good eye.

That's when Dean fucking lost it. He lunged foreword and swung his machete at the closest vamp while Sam fired his revolver at the elder's head, starting an all-out war. Cas fainted in the midst of the fighting, unable to help in the least. Dean was able to chop one vampire's head off before Sam could get to his backup flamethrower ammunition and light a second one on fire. The last three scrambled to put their comrade's flames out and ran off, into the tunnels.

Sam had to physically hold Dean back from chasing after them. "You can't take them by yourself, Dean, and Castiel needs you!"

At those words, Dean seemed to almost wake up from his killing trance. "You're right.... I- I'm sorry," he shuddered. Then, he looked around, as if he just woke up here. his eyes landed on Castiel's battered form, huddled on the ground and he shrugged the confusion off. It didn't matter.

 

 

 

The brothers lugged their angel home to the bunker, got him cleaned up, and Sam was finally able to get those nasty cuffs off of him. Cas seemed to perk up after that, explaining that some of the symbols on the cuffs must have been sapping his power. Dean agreed with him that he just needed some rest. They helped the drowsy angel into his bed; Cas was asleep within a minute. Dean smiled down at the angel before deciding to stay with him for a while. Sam didn't even raise an eyebrow at that, just walked swiftly out the door and to his room, claiming to be exhausted from today's hunt.

"Don't feel bad we didn't kill all of them, Dean. We got one, possibly two. That's more than I expected," Sam added before leaving.

Dean bit his cheek. "We didn't kill all of them?"

"Don't you remember? Three or four got away, I had to physically hold you back from going after them." Sam leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, It's just..." Dean ran a hand over his face, trying to find the right words. "It's all kind of a blur. I remember some girl attacking us... and dragging Cas out of there... but that's about it." He had begun to question his own sanity. "Guess I'm just tired."

Sam scowled. "I guess," he mumbled before walking away.

Dean brushed the weirdness off. He looked down at his sleeping angel. Cas was holding his hand tightly, when did that happen? Dean just went with it, allowed himself to lay on top of the covers on Castiel's bed, and for once, he was the one to be creepy and watch someone sleep. Maybe he'd still be staring at Casitel when he woke up and surprise him. Lord knows the asshole deserved it. Dean chuckled at the thought, although he doubted it would happen. He was already so tired.

Dean closed his eyes.

 

 

Dean woke up to blue eyes four fucking inches from his face. "Damn it, Cas..." Castiel just smiled. "Why do you always do that...."

"Thank you for staying, Dean," the angel leaned in the last four inches and planted a kiss on the hunter's cheek. "I really appreciate it."

Dean huffed at the gross affection. "Cas, we're guys. We don't kiss, even on the cheek. We share awkward hugs when we haven't seen each other in more that a month, and that's it. No kissing."

Cas smirked. "But apparently we share beds sometimes as well. Humans are confusing."

"It's not-" Dean was cut off my Castiel stretching and yawning loudly.

"Still confusing." He threw the blanket off of him revealing his toned chest, wearing nothing but boxers, and waddled off to the bathrooms, Dean guessed in order to shower or something. He smiled to himself. Castiel had no fucking shame when it came to human customs. Dean loved that about him - in a totally platonic way, of course.

Dean eventually got his lazy ass up and left to his room. He had things to do today. Once showered and dressed, he swiped a cup of coffee from the kitchen on his way to the dungeon, first to get his tools back and second to make sure he took care of that vampire body.

Although yesterday was fucking insane and he only remembers bits and pieces, Dean definitely does not remember bandaging the vampire up, putting him in a pink skirt, and tying him to a mattress (how did a mattress even get in here?).

Then he does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry if i misrepresent what DID looks like, I only knew one person with the disorder a long time ago. If you feel that something is wrong, please feel free to yell at me or correct me.  
> i know i know I KNOW I HAVE LIKE FIVE OTHER FICS THAT NEED TO BE UPDATED AND I PROMISE I WILL GET TO THEM. THE ONES I DELETED WERE BECAUSE I AM EDITING THEM AND WILL PROBABLY REPOST THEM SOMETIME IN THE NEXT FEW MONTHS.  
> btw Castiel's savage level is at 110% 24/7 in this so be prepared for that. I'll try to keep them in character, but that isn't one of my strengths.


End file.
